


Watching You, Watching Me

by Schwkie



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Scream (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Fully Consensual Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutual Stalking, Restraints, Sick Character, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting, Voyeurism, erotic water drinking, forced unmasking, lots of stalking, mild waterboarding, surprisingly tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwkie/pseuds/Schwkie
Summary: When Ghostface botches a trial after getting sick, the Shape generously nurses him back to health.Of course, Danny retaliates. After all, what's a good romance between a couple stalkers without a bit of mind-games?Rated E for chapter 2.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Michael Myers, Ghostface (Scream)/Michael Myers
Comments: 32
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

Ah, there it was. That infinitely perfect moment he had chased every single trial. That exquisite interval between watching and being seen. The moment when he could smell fear and dark anticipation rolling off his victims in heaping waves. How could it not be his favorite part? Danny stepped forward, priding himself on the complete silence he achieved despite his leather boot stepping into a pile of leaves. It always nearly killed him (haha), all the emotion and adrenaline packed so tight and neat in this half second of time. 

Meg’s back was completely turned to him. Despite full knowledge she should be looking over her shoulder any chance she could, she continued working diligently on the generator before her. It buzzed and rumbled beneath her nimble fingers. Almost done it seemed. It was such a shame she wouldn’t be able to finish it. Danny took a deep, shuddering breath. Showtime.

She was unknowing prey engulfed in her menial, useless task and he was a deadly predator of the highest skill. No one could hunt like Danny. Knife poised, he loomed over her ready to strike her down. _Got you now, Thomas._ He thought, hyping himself up. 

“AH-CHOO!”

Tight, dirty braids whipped around in shock as the sound of the generator roared to life. This wasn’t the first time Meg had encountered the Ghostface of course, but usually he was a lot more...well, ghostly. There were a lot of vicious killers out there, but none so snakelike in their stalking. The blaring and bizarrely human mistake of sneezing during a moment of crucial silence was as shockingly uncharacteristic for him as it was supernaturally lucky for her. Meg took her blessings where she could and bolted toward the direction of the closest pallet. 

As Meg escaped the knife, Danny stood stock still at his blunder. He’d already done away with Felix and wounded Jake, yet somehow Claudette and now Meg had managed to completely evade him. Claudette was simply excellent at hiding but this incident with Meg was...astounding to say the least. Usually he was in such excellent control of shrouding himself it didn’t matter what obstacles were in his way, Danny could always be a perfect violent surprise. Was this masked killer going soft? 

Another generator starting up in the distance snapped Danny back to his task. It steeled him enough to return to hunting. _One generator to go..._ Things were not going well for him. He gently padded along the dirt and slipped between the stretches of cornstalks with new determination. This map always smelled awful, the scent of rotten vegetables and manure ever pungent yet somehow Coldwind Farms was his favored hunting grounds. Hiding was always more efficient here and the flocks of crows certainly seemed more at home. 

Danny shuffled along. 

No one near the broken down tractor. Or by the crates. This generator was already on, that one hadn’t been touched. Faintly, Danny heard the crackle of his leather glove tighten in a noose-grip around the hilt of his knife. Where the fuck was everyone? 

That awful sound of the fifth and final generator sprang to life all the way on the opposite end of the map. One fucking kill was not gonna cut it for Danny’s standards, let alone what the entity thought. Gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt, Danny shrouded himself once more and barreled toward the nearest exit. To his surprise, Meg once again had her back turned to him as she held down the switch to open the door. Her posture was...almost calm. 

If Danny were an old timey animation his head would have turned red and been accompanied by hefty steam clouds blasting from his ears to the sound of a train whistle. Just because a killer was having an off trial didn’t mean survivors were allowed to be so arrogant! He held his breath and snuck up behind her once more to put her in her place. His usually perfect moment was completely ruined by the urgency to make his move and he wasted no time as he slashed downwards into Meg’s shoulder.

She screamed in pain as he took the moment to clean his blade but didn’t stick around, racing off immediately to the other exit. Danny heard that horrible siren noise of the door to the survivor’s freedom signal its opening. 

Claudette. 

_Of fucking course!_ Danny thought to himself as the gate began to groan open. He immediately trailed Meg, no longer caring about staying hidden. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Jake to his right, fully healed and making obscene and childish gestures at him. 

“Hey the goal of this is no mercy right? Why are you letting us go so easily, you Casper looking fuck!”

The taunting, though unoriginal even for Jake Park’s standards, shot a bolt of envy for Anna through Ghostface. If he’d been blessed to be ambidextrous and possessed the upper body strength for ax throwing he would have happily delivered a fresh hatchet wound to Jake’s jawline. He forced himself to shove those feelings aside and continued to sprint after Meg, who had caught up to Claudette already. She was leaning against her girlfriend for support as they occupied the exit space, waiting for the survivalist to make it through with them. 

There was no way Danny would make it to attack the pair and instead spun on his heel to satisfy his need to strike Jake’s cockiness down. As Park slid past him a bit too close for most survivors’ comfort, Danny felt a tickle in his throat as he slashed his arm down and let out a barking cough. For a moment, Jake froze in the same surprise Meg had experienced earlier. Then, he laughed and threw a rock at Danny who was breaking into a coughing fit.

“Maybe you should try selling cereal, I hear Boo Berry’s making a killing!” The man cheered for Ghostface’s misfortune and as the timer ticked down Danny stopped coughing to catch a view of all three survivors’ escape. Two awful cartoon ghost references in one trial, what were the odds? 

A thick wave of nausea hit him full force at the awful sight of the gate re-closing. This wouldn’t have been unusual except typically the feeling was related more so to extreme disappointment in himself rather than actual physical sickness but...oh. Everything suddenly felt way too hot and uncharacteristically Danny lifted his mask in a haste at the feeling of his stomach lurching. The sound of the entity’s tendrils snaking along the ground towards him went mostly unnoticed as he struggled to keep himself upright. Of course, he was expecting the coming punishment. He and the entity both knew he was capable of much better performance and if he needed to be reminded of that fact now and again Danny wasn’t going to complain. 

In fact, Danny was looking forward to it this time. Maybe getting killed again would reset his organs and he could move on to his usual performance again. He sure hoped so, as the entity wrapped its long appendages around his waist, chest and limbs. Not having time to apologize for his sad display as a killer, the entity lifted him into the air and the motion caused him to empty his stomach ferociously over the front of his robes. 

The thick sloppy sounds of his puke were soon drowned out by his screams of pain as the tendrils began to enter his body, stabbing him through his shoulders. Though he’d done this before it was a kind of searing excruciating sensation he just couldn’t get used to. Kind of like eating too much pineapple, or stepping on the same blue Lego square twice.

The torment continued as the entity constricted itself deeper into his flesh. It made an awful wet noise followed by crunches of bone and ligaments tearing. Black serpentine limbs contracted outward from his new wounds, ripping his limbs from his torso. The first time he’d been punished like this he’d passed out before dying and the entity had made him do it again. 

Finally, as the thickest tendril pushed through the front of Danny’s chest, his head lolled back and the remains of his body went limp. 

_Heh...just like in Alien._ He thought madly to himself as the last of his sight went completely dark. 

\-----

A cawing crow was the first thing Danny heard. Groggily, bleak light filled the corners of his vision and the expectant smell of the campfire filled his nose. What wasn’t so expectant was just how overpowering the scent was; deep and woody and far too crisp. Danny blinked away his sleep and lifted a hand to his face, shocked to feel padded leather against his bare skin. The nakedness he felt was worse than if he’d woken up without his robes and he quickly sat up to actively search for his mask, something he’d never respawned without. 

As he frantically patted around the dirt he was able to clearly take in his surroundings. He’d awoken with his back to a dead oak tree which was soggy with recent rainfall. In fact, everything was rather soggy. He noticed the dirt beneath him was soaked, causing his back to become unbearably moist. The campfire was more smoke than flame now, the coals packed tightly together always kept going by the entity despite the weather. No one was immediately in his line of vision so Danny felt safe enough to stand and attempt to branch out his search for his mask. 

He circled the smoldering pyre once, twice, and once more. 

Nothing. 

Frustrated by his lack of disguise, he turned back to the base of the tree where he’d awoken. He didn’t want to start looking too far away and risk another killer seeing his open face. The concern wasn’t so much “We’re taking you into custody you slimy bastard murderer,” so much as it was “Oh. So THAT’S what you look like.” A “don't ask how the sausage is made” situation. It would certainly ruin the monstrous illusion for them, to know Danny was so plain and human looking. He didn’t even have any cool scars, just a thin pale scratch on his temple where the neighbor kids had hit him with a dart as a child. 

Danny lamented his appearance a moment longer before suddenly feeling an unsettling prickly sensation in his chest. Only then did he notice two things. 

One, his body was still being ravaged by fever. Two, someone was definitely watching him. 

Concerned about both of these discoveries, Danny pulled his hood down low over his face so just the top of his cupid’s bow peeked out from the edge of it. Who even had enough ability and interest in him to watch him from afar like this? Maybe Kruger? Danny wasn’t even sure he would be able to sense him watching from the dream world. It was likely he’d be able to, but the Nightmare really wasn’t keen on anything more than the occasional violent prank. If dear Fred-ward truly did have an evil eye on him, Danny would certainly be enjoying a shower of dream blood by now. 

The Pig had stalked Danny before when he’d first arrived in the entities realm. She’d locked him in a reverse bear trap but no hard feelings as that was just her way of saying hello. At first he’d been pissed about the seemingly not so welcoming gesture but after he’d been decapitated by the device he really developed an appreciation and respect for Amanda’s tactics. 

Another burst of nausea interrupted Danny’s pleasant thoughts of his first friendship here and he decided to sit down again. Mushy ground be damned, he allowed his rear end to soak up the rain as heat rose like an active geyser to his face again. 

What the hell was going on? Someone was still obviously stalking him right now but Danny’s internal organs giving him generous full body tremors required all his attention to keep from passing out. He decided his voyeur would have to wait as he removed his gloves to try to cool down. 

Danny hadn’t looked at his bare hands for quite some time now. His nails were painfully short, every finger displaying bitten and bloody skin topped with an array of hangnails. It was the first time he’d taken a second to think about how long he’d been here. It also made him realize he’d never felt this awful his entire lengthy stay in the entity’s realm. Removing his gloves had possibly worsened his condition, his fever still raged and now his exposed fingers were becoming unbearably cold in the misty perma-autumn weather. 

He bit back a pained moan at his pitiful state and sent a wave of hatred toward whoever was watching him. They had no right to see him in this weak and pathetic position. Had Danny been in a better condition he would have had a keener sense about just how intensely he was being watched. He’d have been able to feel just how desperately that person wanted a peek at his handsome eyes. 

They got their wish as the heat became unbearable and Danny yanked his cowl down, revealing a heavy torrent of sweat along his brow. While he hated the idea of being seen he was also feeling worse and worse by the second. If it was just one killer who saw him weak like this he could easily teach them a lesson about not spying on people later. Danny could be a very good teacher that way. If teachers were highly skilled in performing bloody eagles that is. He leaned back against the gnarled oak tree again and took a deep breath that ended in a coughing fit. 

“Hey enjoy this while it lasts asshole! This show isn’t gonna be free!” The strain on his voice as he shouted sent him coughing again and it quickly devolved into vomiting on the back of his hand. Reluctantly, he inspected it to find bits of blood as well as a horrendous green color. Fuck. 

No wonder he’d been shit at the last trial. The Plague must have left behind a bit of vile purge somewhere on the map. Usually the entity was meticulous at stage setup, occultly so, but maybe something had been left behind still? Ghostface supposed even eldritch monster beings made mistakes now and again. Probably. All he needed to do was sip from Adiris’ mystical fountain or whatever and he’d be right as rain, able to slaughter without consequence once more. 

The thought encouraged him to stagger to his feet and the misting rain began to thrum a bit harder around him. Danny took a moment to survey the area again. Whoever had been watching him had certainly left by now, he could feel it. Though this was a puzzling development, even more confusing was the sight of his mask resting in the dirt just a few yards away. How had he missed it? He bent over and scooped it up, putting it back on its rightful place over his boring human mug. 

Almost instantly he felt a bit better, just enough to start his search for Adiris. As an added distraction to his pain he began to filter through who could have been spying on him so meticulously. He began to mentally flip through a list of possible suspects as he headed towards the fog.

The Wraith certainly had the ability to go unnoticed but Ghostface couldn’t even come close to placing a motive. Phillip also spent almost all of his free time with Evan anyways and the Trapper wasn’t exactly the sneaking type. Anna, Rin, Max, Kenneth and Bubba were all too loud, while Pyramid Head, the Demagorgan, Sally, Kazan, and Lisa weren’t the type to stalk. 

The next name that came to mind made his stomach flip over in a completely different way. Danny quickly shooed the thought away because there was no fucking way THE Michael Myers would want anything to do with him. No reason to get his hopes up. 

While Ghostface had a few dozen (ok maybe more like a few hundred) polaroids of the man, their relationship was well...nonexistent. 

When Danny had first showed up here in all his ecstatic glee, seeing the Shape in person was like getting to meet the devil himself. Danny was drop kicked over the moon without hope. He’d decided to introduce himself in his favorite way, a surprise selfie but he’d forgotten to turn his flash off. The resulting blinding light created a less than pleasant experience for the two of them. Michael had promptly swiped Danny’s already busted iPhone 5 and chucked it down an open hatch. 

Lost forever, Danny was heartbroken at the loss of the picture. After a dozen or so trial wins the entity graced him with an old polaroid camera containing endless film. Aside from getting to take some truly fantastic shots of his never ending cycle of victims, he also frequently used it to secretly stalk Michael at every chance he got. His personal favorite was one of Myers pausing while changing his clothes to look out his Haddonfield window and stare Ghostface down. The top three buttons of his Dickies were undone, the most amount of skin Danny had ever seen from his favorite killer. How had he known just where he’d been hiding? It just proved he was truly a master of the craft worthy of the dark admiration he gave him with wicked fervor. 

The rain picked up, pulling Danny from his memory as he continued trekking through the thick fog. It might take some time, but sooner or later he’d reach a map with SOMEONE who might be able to help him locate Adiris. He hoped for someone at least vaguely tolerable and if not he could always barter their help for an offering or two. Ideally he would simply find Adiris herself but lately luck was seldom on Danny’s side. 

As the fog shrouded his vision entirely he felt himself being transported to a new location, the entity worked in such mysterious ways. By the time his boots hit new ground he was sweating bullets and unsure of how much more of this he could take. Another crow squawked as he walked by and he gazed out onto the old western map that had been brought in by the Gunslinger. Danny shuffled with heavy steps towards the main saloon, coughing as he went. 

The caterwauling of the grand piano bit out a few dissonant chords as he entered. Everything appeared to be its usual broken, run down and unbearably smelly self. Musty crates here, jagged floorboards there. Danny briefly wondered if the entity would ever let them play on a nice clean map for a change, an Ikea perhaps? 

The table farthest from the piano held four killers, none of them Adiris. Caleb was hunched over in concentration, his back to Danny. He was eyeing his cards from below the wide brim of his hat, far too enriched in the game to notice anyone behind him. Shrouding himself, Ghostface crept up behind the deceased cowboy with a finger to his lips at the other killers. He leered over his shoulder. 

“Gee Quinn, a royal flush! Now how lucky is that?” 

Caleb spun around so fast his jaw cracked and he gripped Danny by the front of his cloak. 

“I FOLD.” The disembodied voice of the Doctor crackled with faint static as he dropped his cards. 

Philip’s eyes darted to Danny, back to his cards and then to Caleb before he pressed his cards to the table as well. Sally wheezed in irritation as she repeated the gesture. The Deathslinger held his harpoon gun barrel square to Ghostface’s chest and held him in place. 

“You better have a damn good reason fer costin’ me all these offerin’s, Johnson!” The center of the table was bursting with a variety of coins, wreaths and various other odds and ends. 

“Hey now, no harm done! Just trying to give you a chance at winning fairly is all,” Danny smiled behind his mask as he swiped the hidden queen of hearts from the cowboy’s pocket to show the others. “Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater!”

Enraged, Caleb cocked the gun.

“Are y’ LOOKIN’ to die, boy?” 

“Aw, where’s the fun in that anyway? You know I’ll just come right back to haunt you, wooo-” Wiggling his fingers cartoonishly in the Deathslinger’s face, Danny wasn’t able to finish his mocking as the gun went off. Quinn returned to the poker game, allowing the entity to clean up Danny’s corpse. Of course, Danny had been right and it was only so long before he was right back to pestering at the saloon. 

“So, as I was trying to say before, have any of you handsome crew seen dear sweet *cough* Adiris?” 

“WHAT DO YOU SEEK HER FOR?”

Danny lifted the bottom of his mask just enough to vomit another round of green goo onto his robes. 

“I SEE…”

The Deathslinger ignored Danny and began shuffling his beat up Bicycle cards again. 

“Philly, you seen her?” 

The Wraith shook his head and looked away, knowing Danny was always the one to cause unnecessary trouble he wanted no part of. 

“Sally?”

The Nurse let out an unholy shriek and batted her arm around wildly. Danny took that as a maybe. 

“PERHAPS I COULD CARE FOR YOU, DANIEL. I HAVE A WIDE RANGE OF EXPERTISE, IF YOU’D JUST MEET ME AT MY OFFICE I’M SURE I COULD-”

“Yeah I’ll have to pass Dr. Torture-me-silly.” 

“Why don’t y’ ask yer’ friend,” Caleb grumbled, lighting a cigar with one hand and dropping his new round of cards with the other. “I’m out.”

 _My friend?_ Danny thought, turning around in place. No one was behind him and that ominous feeling hadn’t come back. Maybe these four were distracting him too much to tell. 

“Sorry there buckaroo, I’ve humbly come t’ you all by my lonesome this hallowed-” More coughing. “-eve.” 

Caleb took a moment to side eye him in a mixture of annoyance at his butchered fake attempt at a Southern accent and disbelief that Ghostface didn’t know someone was following him. “Whatever. Jus’ go on n’ bother someone else a while.” 

Usually, Danny would have been happy to pester the group until one of them decided to kill him again but the threat of him facing another trial was imminent. Ghostface was not going to rush in lagging and hacking and making a fool out of himself again. He collected a bit of bile from his robe and flicked it at the back of the Deathslinger’s head. 

“Blaugh, your loss you don’t want me to stick around, my poker face is incredible!” 

Everyone chose to ignore him this time and he turned to try to locate someone a bit more resourceful. If he couldn’t find Adiris perhaps he could at least find Rin.

Not many killers could stand being around Adiris. She smelled horrible, looked worse, and if you weren’t undead you risked getting sick. Rin wasn’t at risk for illness and had become very close to the Plague. If you asked Danny they made a rather creepy pair, all full of maggots and boils and glass and worst of all...requite romantic feelings. He would have gagged, thinking about all their love and affection and praise for each other if he wasn’t sure he’d puke his guts again. Real love was about thinking about someone nonstop and making sure they were safe and away from others by constantly surveillancing them. 

As he continued his lament against healthy relationships he suddenly noticed that feeling had returned. Eyes on the back of his neck that made the thin hairs there stand on end. The overwhelming nature of it made Danny realize just how intensely he was being watched. He was still weak from the effects of the purge but the nausea had gradually become more of an ebbing seashore rather than an all consuming typhoon. This small blessing allowed him the strength to activate night shroud again. 

Danny stood stock still in an attempt to detect whoever was daring to snoop on him repeatedly like this. He held his breath and concentrated hard, trying to hear the killer make a mistake of shifting their arm or flicking their eyes a different direction. Somehow, still nothing. 

Pissed, Danny brandished his hunting knife.

“Ok that’s it!” He yelled. “Who the fuck is messing with me while I’m sick?” He didn’t have to fake the barking cough that came out of his lungs. 

Thud. 

Whipping around and prepared to attack, Danny noticed something very much non-killer shaped. Lying in the parched grass was a rather plain looking water bottle. Metal, slender, very suburban dad style. Had the entity heard his passing wishes for an Ikea map? It didn’t appear to be haunted or cursed or anything so he went forward to inspect it closer. Truly nothing out of the ordinary, except that it had come out of absolutely nowhere. Danny poked it with the tip of his knife without picking it up. 

_Really weird…_ He thought, standing back up. 

At least, he tried to stand back up, but he bumped into something rather, solid. His mouth went dry realizing he’d been caught and before he could do much more than that, a broad arm with a vice grip draped along his chest and held him fast. He didn’t dare look down to see whose arm was holding him, the perceived answer was just a bit too scary. 

“V-very funny ‘Manda! Teaching Bubba to be a skilled stalker and trapping me in place is some prank, hilarious!” 

The heavy inhale behind his ear stole the air right from his lungs. 

Michael gripped Danny’s blade with his free hand and tossed it to the ground with an inhuman strength that made Danny squirm. 

“Ah my mistake. Mr. Myers! What an unexpected honor. Are you-” Danny coughed roughly. “-here about that photo album in my shack? Trust me those polaroids are NOT mine, I was just saving those for a friend.” 

Michael's silence and motionessless did not ease Danny’s blabbermouth. 

“Which friend you say? Well you see I just have so many it’s hard to keep track of whose revealing snapshots of you end up where. My money is on Freddy. Unless you found the ones I keep under my pillow in which case those are Jason’s. I know he’s not even here but trust me when I say--”

Having had enough, Michael moved his free hand to roughly grip Danny’s windpipe, squeezing a whimper out of him. Getting killed three times in such a short amount of time, what an unlucky break! Just before he began to feel himself fading into unconsciousness, Michael’s hand released and moved to begin pulling up the bottom of his mask. 

_Oh._ Danny thought. Somehow being forcibly unmasked by his idol seemed like a worse fate than being fatally asphyxiated by him. 

“Wait!” he exclaimed. Michael only lifted the mask to just under his nose, then paused. “Why don’t we just go back to you choking me? It was really turning me on!” Only a half lie. Also, apparently not what the killer wanted to hear. With an effortlessness Danny had secretly dreamed about for quite some time, Micheal manhandled him into the same humiliating over-the-shoulder position all killers used on heavily injured survivors. 

Was...Micheal planning to hook him? 

Danny had to admit, it could certainly make for some fun foreplay but he wasn’t too keen on the idea of the four poker-playing killers walking in on them. What was it survivors usually did in these situations? Oh yeah…

Ghostface began to writhe relentlessly against the completely iron tight grip Michael had on him. Was Myers really this strong or was Danny just extra weak right now? 

“C-come on Mikey, can’t ya take a guy to dinner before you impale him on a rusty hook? My mother didn’t raise a slut!” 

Ever mute, Michael simply walked past the hook Danny had assumed was for him. As the fog came into view, Danny second guessed what the other killer had planned for him. The view of the saloon, tumbleweeds and cacti faded out of his line of sight and was quickly replaced by new surroundings. As Michael charged ahead, Danny took the moment to conserve his energy and looked up at the nearby street sign. _Lampkin Lane._

Myers approached the familiar 70’s style two story home and made a beeline through the front door and up the stairs. 

“I know talking isn’t your thing and all, but is there any way you can at least sort of tell me what we’re doing here?”

Danny got the wind knocked clean out of him as he was dropped sack-of-potatoes style onto the rickety hardwood of the upstairs bedroom. He felt like a Stretch Armstrong whose owner wasn’t concerned with replacing him. With a grunt of pain, he rolled over to begin trying to get up. Key word being try. 

Before he could even attempt to take in his surroundings, Michael grabbed him roughly under the armpits and lifted him into the air. Danny groaned and then cried out in surprise as the taller man shoved his back against the rotted wood dresser. 

“Fucking hell! Slow down a second would y-” 

This time Micheal didn’t hesitate as he pressed his fingertips against the bottom of Ghostface’s mask, pulling it up and off far too easily for Danny’s liking. It hit the carpet below with a dull thunking noise. The unease of being so exposed again in such close proximity to his favorite killer shot guilt and shame right through his core. As he opened his mouth to protest, Michael switched to holding Danny up with just one hand, the other gripping the sides of his jaw. It froze him in place for just a moment before he resumed his strained fighting, his muscles sore and certainly bruised from being roughed up so much. 

Michael leaned in to Danny with his whole body and pushed his wide thumb and forefinger into the sides of his face to force his mouth open. It was all a bit much for the smaller killer, too intimate too fast and he wasn’t even sure what Michael was doing yet. His blood rushed in his ears. Held in place by Myers’ chest and forearm, Danny kicked his legs weakly uncertain if he even wanted to escape at this point. 

Beneath the sound of the Shape’s labored breathing was the soft scrape of metal on metal. Danny briefly wondered if he was about the meet face to face with the infamous butcher knife. He didn’t have to wait long to discover that, no, it wasn’t kitchen steel being raised to his lips but the rim of a very cold water bottle. When had Michael even picked that back up? 

A gush of water rushed down Danny’s throat and at first he spewed it back out, the taste tangy and strange. Michael pressed him harder against the dresser and tightened his fingers on his jaw, forcing him to drink. His eyes watered and he began to writhe uncomfortably in his grip as his esophagus contracted and he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed the water. 

Though he’d never gotten to see them, Danny could feel Michael’s eyes watching his face contort intently behind the empty eye sockets of his mask. He’d be able to see Danny’s pupils expanding this close, see that little scar near his brow and feel the harsh pulse of his heart through the brutal grip on his jaw. The low light outside had turned everything a hazy shade of dusty blue and the dark shadows that dragged over the contours of that stark white mask truly earned him the title of the Shape. If Danny were a bit more present it would have been a scene he’d love to photograph. 

Finally empty, Myers’ tossed the bottle to the ground, followed by Danny a second time. He hit the ground with a violent cough, followed by more hacking and clutching his own sore neck. His whole face and chest were soaked and where he could see Michael’s unreadable expression peering down at him he saw dark wet spots along the sleeves of his jumpsuit. 

“If you wanted to waterboard me properly you should have used a towel,” Danny glared from the ground as the two of them locked gazes.

After a beat of silence, Michael knelt down on one knee, bringing his face in close again. Ghostface held his breath as that thick square palm that had choked and grabbed him was brought slowly to his forehead. That hand dragged gently down his temple and over his cheek. The combination of how naturally warm his skin was and how surprisingly tender his movements were kept Danny in place without any physical restraint. The pad of Myers’ thumb swiped over his slightly parted lips just once before pulling his hand away and standing. Danny couldn’t help it when his dark brown eyes widened at the near caring gesture. 

They stared at each other, neither moving though Danny feared his rapid heartbeat was going to cause him to palpitate all over and shake like a wind-up toy. Michael was the first to break the standoff, he tilted his head slightly and turned on his heel simply, leaving. It caused Danny to scramble to his feet, and he called out hoarsely to the other man. 

“You can’t leave me hanging like this! Come back here!” Grabbing at the dirty shag rug, he pulled it towards himself and retrieved his mask. Once it was back in place, he darted downstairs, swinging the door wide open as he went. He needed a real explanation for all of this. The sudden stalking, kidnapping and forced water drinking couldn’t just live as a permanently unsolved mystery until the next time they crossed paths. 

But just as mysteriously as he’d appeared, the Shape had dissolved into his surroundings, leaving Danny confused and alone. It wasn’t until the realization he’d been abandoned that his second revelation came. His fever was gone. 

Somehow knowing that Myers’ mild water torture was his way of gifting him Adiris’ healing water left the killer twice as confused as before. It also made a strange new warmth creep across his chest. Despite the um, unorthodox delivery method, Michael Myers had played the role of nurse for Danny. This immediately conjured up an image of the stalker squeezed into a medical uniform of the Halloween Express variety. A thought for another time perhaps.

Lightheaded from this newfound discovery (and probably still a bit of the choking), Danny stumbled from Michael’s front porch and made his way back into the fog. 

He had a lot of thinking to do. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember guys this is a story about two fictional serial killers fucking in limbo, in real life please practice safe sex and don't put your potential partners in bondage gear unless youve discussed it first.
> 
> happy reading~ ^^

Time was something Danny seldom thought about here in his new home. There was no more night and day, no more weekends or sunrises or “hump days” as his old coworkers had endearingly called the middle of the week. Just permanent dusk, always dark, always dingy.

To be bothered by the limbo like state of the entity’s realm was useless, it was better to just let things go and ease into trial after trial followed by bizzare in between interactions sans anxiety. Despite this knowledge, Danny wished he could find even a single clock that worked so as to better count the days that had passed since his last encounter with Michael Myers.

Thus far, every one he’d managed to find was smashed, missing batteries or both. The only half decent marker he had to measure time passing was the amount of trials he’d been through since.

Eleven.

It was agonizing, just spending free time on the neighboring roofs and trees of the Haddonfield community, only sneaking tiny peeks here and there of the ominous killer. Stalking wasn’t as much fun now that it wasn’t ending in Michael’s hand crushing Danny’s windpipe anymore. Still fun of course, but the potency of the rush had dwindled.

Presently, Danny was lounging in the meat plant with Amanda. It was one of the few maps killers rarely chose to spend free time due to the rancid smell and chilly temperatures and thus allowed for the pair to work without concern for interruption. Ghostface was lying on his stomach, chin propped on one palm while he kicked his legs like a 90’s chick flick protagonist on the phone with her boyfriend.

Amanda was preoccupied with adjusting the timing on a reverse bear trap seated between her crossed legs. The two were connected by countless papers, an ocean of blueprints and engineering notes meeting a sea of photographs, newspaper clippings and crudely written notes in a hodgepodge of criminal activity.

It was quiet, save for the occasional water dripping in the distance, or the scratch of Danny’s pen against his notepad. Much like everything, the silence reminded him of Michael and it caused an uncomfortable writer’s block that made Danny squirm in his seat.

Clink clink, went Amanda’s screwdriver against the back of the trap.

Now was as good a time as any to bring up his concerns about the other killer before trial number twelve passed. And if nothing else, Amanda was resourceful.

Ghostface took it upon himself to grab her attention in the most subtle way possible, with a loud and overly drawn out sigh.

Rudely, she ignored the obvious plea and continued her work.

Next, Danny broke out the big guns and sighed much louder while flipping his note paper over with an obnoxious “THWIP” sound.

“Use your words, Danny,” she muttered without looking up.

The annoyer frowned behind his mask. It wasn’t as much fun to pester when the annoy-ee took on such a clipped tone so soon and he subsequently threw in the towel early. Not much of a game if the rules were broken immediately.

“It’s a tragic love story ‘Manda...and I’m the star.”

“Is that so.” A gear clicked into place.

Couldn’t she at least feign some intrigue? Here Danny was, pulling out all the stops for her undivided attention and she wouldn’t even put down that stupid trap? He fought the urge to swat it from her hands, knowing she’d use him as a test subject again if he did. Instead, he decided to continue and hoped she’d at least be half listening.

“I’d tried everything for his attention! Stalking, photographing him from afar, even hiding outside his house without him knowing!” Ghostface held up a finger to match each action he counted off.

“That’s just stalking three times,” Amanda lifted her mask just enough to hold a screw between her teeth.

“And now,” he ignored her, “After he’s finally shown interest in me? I haven’t heard a word from him…” Danny dramatically covered his mask in fake shame.

Finally, Amanda paused her tinkering. “I thought Michael didn’t talk anyways?”

“Hey I never said anything about him!”

“Right... so this mystery person who is definitely not Michael Myers showed interest in you, how so?”

Danny recalled the events of interest briefly for the four millionth time since they’d occurred.

“He brought me flowers.”

Behind her mask, Amanda rolled her eyes.

“If you’re not gonna tell me why’d you bring it up?”

Ghostface, never comfortable with outright asking for help, looked away.

“Oh, I see.”

The Pig lunged from her seat suddenly, slicing Danny expertly across the back of his wrist between his sleeve and glove with her hidden blade.

“Owie!” He sat upright then, gripping the cut with his other hand as his blood gushed over the leather. “What was that?”

“That was just a fraction of the pain you’re gonna feel if you let this opportunity pass you by, idiot. Don’t waste this. Not-Myers can be weirdly shy so you’re gonna need a good plan if you want him to show you his heart.” Amanda wiped her blade against her sleeve and went back to workshopping her signature weapon.

At his friends’ words and the gears turning in her lap, the gears in Danny’s head began to turn as well.

“Show me his heart huh…”

Clink clink clink.

Danny flipped to a new page of his notebook and began scribbling down a few poor drawings and scratchy toothpick handwriting. She was entirely right, if Michael was truly interested it’d be Ghostface’s move next. He’d need to return the romantic gesture with something just as grand and twice as bold.

After a few more stretches of very undetermined time, Danny’s plan was just about completed. He dropped his pen with a clack and nudged Amanda’s leg with the pad of paper. She took it from him swiftly and began to drink in the notes with real interest this time.

“This is almost good Danny,” she smirked, handing the plot back. “I think I’d like to help you make it great.”

\-------

Another trial had passed by perfectly, with Michael slicing down survivors with incredible ease. Had he been the type, he may have complained to the entity that things on the so called battlefield were getting a little boring and pleaded something like “May I Please Have An Actual Challenging Survivor For Once, Please”.

Steve, Jane, Nea and Kate hadn’t even made it to their third generator before perishing on steel hooks. It was starting to feel a little insulting to Michael’s talents.

The good thing was that at least now Michael would have a bit more time in solitude. There weren’t many people he could spend even a few minutes with without feeling the urge to slit them ear to ear, he preferred quiet. Getting to relax in his old house and have extended periods of time to sit and think was the only thing he looked forward to.

For most of his life he would sit alone and keep to himself, his thoughts his and his alone. But now, something new was invading his peace, stomping all over it and forcing him to explore unfamiliar parts of his mind.

While it wasn’t unusual for Michael to become fixated on a single person, usually the obsessing ended in murder, or at least the attempt to do so. It was an overwhelming and inexplicable need to see that person suffer, scream and die.

With Judy, this feeling had come upon him suddenly and was satisfied almost immediately. The need swelled again with Laurie but different this time, there was reason to draw it out, to see what she would do and how she would react to things before striking her where she cowered. A snake snapping wicked fangs at a rabbit verses a devious housecat toying with a basement mouse.

Danny wasn’t his sister. Danny was a horrible concoction of annoying, trying, bothersome, rude, obnoxious, and downright aggravating. He was a blight on the Earth and the entity’s realm and any other planet or dimension he might travel to.

When Michael had first met him he couldn’t believe the entity had chosen this chatterbox with a hard on for slaughter to be a new killer. Before his very first trial the newbie had tested out a stab on the Hillbilly and wore himself out running from the chainsaw-happy menace. He talked the Huntress’ ear off about how much he admired her hatchets for their aerodynamic appeal and continued on to make loud and unwanted references to someone named Jim Carrey.

It was enough to make Michael want to skip viewing his first attempt, no one with this little respect for themselves could be even close to deserving of a spot here and thus assumed the entity had made some sort of error, especially since there was no accompanying new survivor.

And then Michael saw him hunt.

Ghostface’s babbling excitement was packed away the instant he’d shrouded himself. It didn’t take long for Myers to understand why he was here as Danny grabbed survivors away from generators without them even getting a chance to know he was lurking. Had the stalker been a little more experienced, Michael may even have begun to worry about losing his seat as the entity’s golden boy.

Fortunately, Danny tended to be overly passionate in his attacks which often caused him to miss, or waste time chasing someone. His overall killcount suffered as a result of his impatience. It was amusing for a good while, and these shortcomings helped further ensure Michael as a top killer.

After this initial meeting and observing, the two stalkers had fallen into a rhythm of Danny stalking him and being caught red handed every single time. It was one thing for the Ghostface to peek in on him at any given moment, but then he began invading Michael’s private time in an even more intimate manner.

His thoughts had slowly turned to being all about Danny without him ever even realizing it. He had thought that maybe if he just got to see the other killer’s face that he could sate his curiosity and put the matter to bed.

Boy, had he been wrong.

Now that Michael had seen him so frightened, shaking apart with wide eyes and face bare under his grip unable to do anything but accept his help, the fantasies he was having only increased in both frequency and intensity. The velocity of obsession had never been this alluring.

That allure was at the forefront of Micheal’s brain as he climbed the steps to his room once again. He tried to shut out the image of Danny’s lips pursed and chapped in his hand, the gurgling sounds he’d made at the water gushing down his throat.

As he reached the top step, his brain helpfully supplied an image of Danny on his knees with something else gushing down his open mouth.

Michael grit his teeth and made a beeline for his room.

Suspiciously, the door was closed. He paused, all thoughts of Danny vanishing as he considered what this might mean. Nothing else in the house had been disturbed, that much was certain. Usually he would have never second guessed himself, but his frequent distractions opened up new possibilities. Had he closed his door for some inexplicable reason before the trial?  
He proceeded with caution.

The door creaked open campy haunted house style and Michael’s looming form appeared in the doorway, the light from the hall creating a dramatic scene. His shadowy form paused there, posture relaxed as per usual but his fingers clenched in wait around the handle of his knife.

He listened carefully and inspected the room where he stood for any signs of disturbance. It was silent, save for the labored breaths he produced behind the latex of his mask. Nothing peculiar near the windows or out of place on the stained rug. The ceiling fan was undisturbed. A blinking light caught Michael’s eye.

The bedside telephone.

Wait, bedside telephone?

The entity rarely bothered with placing phones in any of the environments, what good would they do anyways? The one that had been placed here was obscenely out of place with the rest of the furnishings. It was a sleeker design than any Michael had seen before, with a large box connected to it holding the blinking light. He crossed the room to it at his even toy-soldier pace and looked down at the small red blip. The square black button beneath it read “voicemail”.

He took a moment to peer around again in the darkness of his room. Nothing but large shadows and the same dumpy, cobweb heavy furniture that had always been here. Curious by the absence of threat, Michael picked up the chunky cream colored receiver and hit play.

A rough and distorted beep greeted him, followed by a rough and distorted voice.

“Evenin’ big guy!” Danny, of course. “Can I say that? If the sun never rises or sets does my greeting even have any meaning?” Micahel heard shuffling in the background and a hollow clanging noise.

“Anyways, what a trial, amiright? You always know just where to stick ‘em! Always a joy and personal delight to watch you work your magic.”

As his crackled voice came through, Michael allowed his eyes to wander out the window and down to the neighboring fences. He couldn’t sense anyone there, but somehow he knew Danny was undoubtedly nearby.

He stayed still as the message continued.

“But I gotta say, after I last saw you mask to face, I got to thinking. You really deserve something special for all the hard work you do,” Danny’s voice was teetering on the edge of manic now.

“So I was thinking,” He paused to giggle incessantly, a giddy and deranged sound that cut suddenly to a serious voice about three octaves lower than his usual speech.

“Let’s play a game.”

Michael slowly peeked over his shoulder to survey the room again as Danny took a moment to chuckle to himself like he’d just told the funniest joke in existence. It was strange he couldn’t clock Ghostface’s location, given the likeliness that he’d given himself front row seats to whatever show he’d set up. He faced the window again.

“Sorry, haha, I’ve just always wanted to say that.” The message went through a particularly rough bout of static before picking back up again.

“I know what you might be thinking. ‘Oh no, Mr. Ghostface is going to try to teach me some inane life lesson about how I shouldn’t forcibly waterboard people in surprise kidnapping plots’ but you’d be wrong.” His voice reversed its earlier impression of Jigsaw by bolting up three octaves to mimic Micahel’s voice like he was some sort of destitute final girl. Myers ignored it.

“I like to have way more fun than all that so nope, no lesson here! I just want you to find me is all!”

So Michael had been right, Ghostface was hiding around here. Why hadn’t he been able to sense him yet?

There was a beat of silence.

“I know, not as gory as anything Amanda’s cooked up, but hide and seek is fun! I’ll even give you a hint to make it easier.” Danny’s voice got low and breathy, mocking the other’s classic heavy inhales. “Where does the Boogeyman like to watch you?”

Michael’s skin prickled.

He craned his neck to eye the dark closet looming directly behind him. The shuttered door was just slightly out of place. It was such an obvious spot that he was almost disappointed.

“See you soon, Michael.”

The message clicked to an end.

Usually, Myers was not interested in games. He hated being toyed with and the fact that Danny had basically revealed his location so quickly made the entire performance that much more annoying. Michael would have to teach Ghostface a few manners.

He clicked the receiver back in place and readied his blade before turning on heel and marching to the closet. Presence set to maximum terrifying, Michael gripped the small white knobs and waited a beat before yanking both doors open with a harsh snap of the clacking shutters.

Clothes.

This was puzzling. He plunged his arm deep into the coats and shirts and thrashed his arm to the side, knife raised ready to strike Danny cowering behind business casual outfits. The smell of mothballs was all that greeted him. At the back of the closet the drywall was bare, save for a small sticky note.

Michael took it.

“Close, but no cigar!” It read, accompanied by a small ink drawing of him and Ghostface puffing a pair of Cubans through their masks.

With an exhale of frustration he closed the closet doors once more. A tingling sensation rose on the back of his neck and he marched towards the bed again, certain the darkness beneath would be harboring a pesky little ghoul.

Michael knelt down, listening carefully for a beat. He couldn’t hear any breathing that wasn’t his own and proceeded to stick his right hand below the bed frame.

Whirrrr…

Before he was able to process the noise a wide metal clamp stuck fast around his wrist. There was no time for shock as Michael yanked his hand away to inspect the cuff. It was rusty, painfully tight and connected to a cable that led under the bed like a telephone line. Tugging against it came with a bit of resistance akin to that of a seatbelt, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Awkwardly, he used his knife with his non dominant hand to try and cut the thick wire. At the first slice he decided to quit while he was ahead, the steel braiding would take months to carve through and it wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his time.

Michael briefly wondered why Ghostface would set a scene this way, was it for humiliation? To hold power over him?

His thoughts didn’t linger long and were interrupted by the phone ringing harshly through the small room. The small table was on the opposite side of the bed and Michael climbed onto the dusty paisley comforter to reach the receiver. It was an awkward shimmy, one that he knew with a burst of rage that Ghostface was watching intently.

Stubbornly, he made it to the phone on the last ring. With his right arm pulled back to the edge of the bed he held the receiver against his mask with the left.

Danny’s voice was three times as crackled and farther away this time.

“Okay, ‘If-he-doesn’t-find-me’ take two,” He started off, clearly talking to someone else. “Hey, hey! I’ve gotta...hand it to you Myers, this is very unexpected! Even with my perfectly helpful hint you haven’t found me yet! Believe me, I want you to see me but I can’t just give you the answer, that’s cheating!”

Michael breathed heavily into the phone in annoyance.

“I didn’t want to tie you here like this, but holding you back is the only way to help you forward with your mission,” More static chopped up Danny’s speech. “Alright cadet, I’ll talk to you soon, the fate of the world lies in your capable hands!”

Michael could almost hear the salute Danny was likely giving. He eyed where the cord tethering him to the bed disappeared past the mattress.

“Oh and I wouldn’t recommend looking down there again, things are gonna end TERRIBLE if you do that! Byeee!” The line cut out and Myers stayed put to weigh his options.

One, he could crawl under the bed and rip whatever was connected to the cable to pieces. Danny was ferocious to survivors but attacking Michael made no sense considering the way he so clearly felt about him. Or perhaps that was incentive to be especially ferocious.

Two, he could refuse to play the game. If he sat there long enough maybe Danny would just come out of his hiding spot. This was unfortunately wishful thinking, as Ghostface had stalked him for rather extended periods of time in the past without moving positions. His dedication to this performance was too great.

Three, he could continue searching to the best of his ability and try to pinpoint Danny’s location with nothing more than his steely gaze. If he won, it was likely that his captor would dismantle whatever device was below him.

The third option seemed like the strongest and Michael began to survey the room with intense scrutiny once more. He thought about the hint again.

What had it been, something about where the Boogeyman liked to hide? The closet and under the bed were the top two contenders but both had apparently been wrong. What other options did he really have?

Long shadows stretched across the bedroom, the same ones that never moved or changed places due to the eternal evening light. Though it was dark, it would be impossible for Danny to hide anywhere outright in line of Michael’s gaze. He squinted behind his mask anyways, eyes trained on the shadows as his neck turned mechanically from the left to the right side of the room.

Nothing.

Michael looked at the restraint again and gave a half hearted tug before quickly rolling his head to face to phone. That was strange, the drapes on the windows were quaking ever so slightly. Had Ghostface been coming in and out of the window that silently? There was a very steep overhang of roof just below the window that would be possible to crouch on but the balance and dexterity required for such a feat was vast.

Regardless, it was possible that Danny had been talking about the window view. Myers wasn’t a stranger to enjoying watching future victims from the comfort of their backyards and he was growing tired of this little game. He pulled at his wrist cuff enough to reach the windowsill and…

SNAP!

A second cuff shot out from beneath the bed and attached itself to his left wrist with the same too snug fit. The rust was rubbing his skin raw.

Naturally, Michael gave a rough yank at it, drawing his arm towards him.

As soon as he pulled, the whirring through the mattress sang out a song of danger. There was a fast paced series of clicks before both cords on either hand drew closer to each other, making it harder for him to move.

Myers let out a grunt at the sudden pull back and contracted his arm muscles, attempting to free himself. The hum of the machine kept up its quiet sputtering and the discordant ringing of that damned telephone started up again.

How did Danny expect him to answer it now? He could barely pick his shoulders up from where they were squeezed flat to his bed. The contraption didn’t continue its tugging, but Michael didn’t fight against it very hard either, letting the phone ring itself out.

Eventually the voicemail machine gave a droning beep and Danny’s third message played out.

“I was so looking forward to being your catch of the day Michael, but instead you’re mine,” This time the recording was happening live and the echo of Danny’s voice coming from over the phone revealed his location at last.

Michael thunked his head against the headboard.

“Too late, my hunky halibut!” There was the sound of awkward shimmying as Ghostface popped out from behind the headrest. “Yowza that was hard!” His form eased cooly into Myers’ line of vision, an inky black phantom coming to haunt him.

‘Where does the Boogeyman like to hide?’ He thought sourly.

‘Right behind you.’

He was regrettably impressed. Ghostface had been able to avoid detection by moving around the room just behind him as he was hunted. If Michael had just taken this game a bit more seriously and twisted himself around at faster than a snail’s pace he would have been able to catch Danny tiptoeing around his back.

Danny had counted on it.

“So? What’d you think of my little parlour trick? Go on, you can say,” He wiggled in anticipation of the response he knew wasn’t coming.

There was another click and the cords went taut, the cuffs beginning to really pull at Michael’s wrists and shoot pain all the way through his shoulders. Still, he wasn’t frightened by Danny’s charade so he remained in a semi-relaxed horizontal t-pose against the mattress.

“It’s alright, I know I always seem to leave you speechless,” Ghostface continued his possibly rehearsed lecture and tossed his flip phone over his shoulder. “You certainly left me that way last time we met.”

Michael eyed the other man’s neck and shifted a bit at the pleasant memory of choking him out.

“It’s not polite to leave someone out to dry like that, Mikey.”

Danny shook his hands out, his knife appearing from a sleeve and sliding easily into his palm.

“So as my prize for winning,” he climbed up onto the bed with the blade raised, gaze locked to Michael’s. “You’re gonna really show me your heart, one way or another.”

At these words, Michael kicked his legs around, trying to keep Ghostface away from him. If he killed him here, he’d surely photograph his body and the humiliation would end his life a second time over. The frantic shuffling of fabric against fabric was interrupted by another pair of clicks.

His arms were pulled away from each other again, causing more strain on his chest and collarbone. This was inching a quick route to agony.

“Hey, stop squirming! You’re gonna get your chest busted open before I have a chance to photograph you!”

Michael wasn’t listening as he continued to thrash against the restraints. The clicking and continued painful pull on his upper body only became more severe the more he tried to break free.

“Michael!” In an attempt to hold him steady, Danny climbed onto his waist, knees sinking into the worn mattress. Trying to hold the larger killer in place was about as successful as using a balloon to dock a flagship so he tried the next best thing. Threatening.

“If you don’t behave I’m gonna…” He raised his knife. While he had no intentions of slitting his throat, holding the blade near his head gave him a better idea. The tip of it poked the latex covering at the bottom of his jaw. “I’m gonna cut your mask off and take the photo without it.”

The reaction was instant. Michael’s legs went slack and what little movement he had left in his arms ceased as he gave up. Despite the burning hateful gaze Danny likely received, the cooperation left him satisfied. He skimmed the knife from his jaw, down his collarbone to the top button of his jumpsuit, a warning.

Ghostface set his weapon down in favor of retrieving his polaroid from his robes.

“Don’t get your Dickies in a twist, I’ll let you loose as soon as I get my picture.”

Danny sat down on Michael’s lap to stabilize himself as he thoroughly wiped the lens with the sleeve of his robe and checked all the settings. He was likely to be dismembered multiple times after this so the shot needed to be well worth it, physical proof of the scene he’d set.

“It’s not my fault you look so good like this,” He continued to ramble as he held the camera up, poised for the perfect composition.

Michael really did look good like this. His chest was raised slightly from the strain on his arms and the sliver of skin that peeked out between his mask and undershirt was beautifully taut. He looked like he was in an exorbitant amount of pain, all of those tendons and tissues begging for release. It was an exquisite sight.

Still, this needed to be absolute perfection and Danny could afford to be a little greedy.

He was too focused to keep talking now, setting the camera aside again in favor of sitting back up on his knees and grabbing his blade. There was a faint scratching sound as he touched it over that top button of Michael’s jumpsuit once more and then the even fainter snap of the button being removed.

Danny used both hands to softly massage the horribly tense tops of his pecs and down the center of his sternum, thumbs sweeping back up over his collarbone. He kept one hand there as he held his breath and readied the camera once more. Feeling Michael’s chest heave for breath under his gloved hand was just the addition he needed for this magnum opus.

Back through the lens, it looked as if Myers was willingly posing this time.

A bead of sweat dribbled out from beneath his mask down his neck and he’d relaxed his head into the pillow to stare downwards at Danny instead of locking eyes head on. Those long black shadows contorted around Michael’s eye sockets more dramatically this way and it filled Ghostface with delight to see.

Everything had been flawlessly aligned and Danny eased off his knees again to steady himself with his finger hovering over the shutter.

Only then did he notice how ragged Michael’s breathing had become. Even through the blue haze of the room Danny could see where his throat and partially exposed chest had blossomed in a deep flush. The reaction was almost as if…

For the first time since being threatened, Michael shifted below him.

Oh.

“Are...are you-”

The larger killer tugged weakly at the cuffs again, not wanting Ghostface to know what this was doing to him. The metallic clicks and tugging were accompanied by an awful crunch from Michael’s right shoulder and he let out a sharp exhale.

While Danny had set this up as a romantic gesture he had never expected this kind of reaction. He was heading into some dangerous waters now and he’d need to tread carefully.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but, do you like this Michael?” Danny placed his thumb and forefinger along the other’s jaw and tilted it to align with his own face.

Torture and maiming was a lot of fun for Ghostface to inflict on helpless survivors but it wasn’t something he’d bring to the bedroom himself. If Myers was enjoying it the way he thought he’d be more than happy to indulge but it wasn’t something he was going to assume.

Refusing to admit his enjoyance, Michael kept as still as he could. Save for his breathy exhales the man was unreadable.

“As much as I’d love to be, I’m not a mindreader. Even a nod will work.” Danny released the gentle grip on Myers’ chin to allow him the freedom to consent or not.

Michael stubbornly continued to lie motionless.

Behind his mask, Danny frowned.

Contrary to what most would assume to be his nature, he’d never been interested in partners that didn’t beg for him or at least sing his praises. While he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the other killer to talk he had vowed to see his heart and if Michael needed a little push in the right direction that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“Alright I get it, my mistake,” he teased, picking the camera up again. “I’ll just get my picture so we can get on to the good stuff. You chasing me down until you’ve strung up my insides in every possible direction.” After all that fussing, he snapped the picture unceremoniously. “Can I at least get a three second headstart?”

Deliberately, Danny pressed his hips down against Michael’s now obvious erection as he watched the small polaroid develop. He felt him shift his hips up slightly, seeking more friction that Danny wasn’t about to give it to him without a decent yes.

The photo bled against the white of the film in the shallow moonlight. For the first time in his life, Ghostface decided the image wasn’t as good as the real thing. Still, he flipped it around to show Michael.

“You look so handsome here,” His voice dripped out from behind his mask in a parody of affection. “Too bad I have to let you go now…”

Myers stayed eerily still.

Maybe Danny really had misread the situation? He tucked the photo into his robe pocket and climbed down below the bed to stop the machine. Hopefully Michael would just kill him quickly and he’d respawn somewhere far away so he could go into hiding forever.

Using the key Amanda had fashioned for him, Danny unlocked Michael’s left hand first. If his dominant, and more importantly, knife wielding hand was freed second it might give him a good lead on running away. Ghostface held his breath and listened to Myers twist his wrist to shake out the stiffness.

With breath held fast and an exaggerated grimace, Danny placed the key at the second lock. Maybe Michael would take this whole thing in stride? He could play it off as a big joke and the two of them would laugh and go join Caleb’s next poker game with a bond stronger than ever before.

Yeah and then the sun will rise and the entity will turn into a unicorn and carry us off to our honeymoon, he thought bitterly as he turned the key.

The second cuff snapped open and retracted into the machine.

As he’d assumed, the weight on the bed lifted instantly. Danny’s plans for escape were shattered as he tried to figure out what side of the bed Michael had got off of. His vision was limited facing the bedroom wall and if he risked moving in the wrong direction he was going to be caught between a knife and a hard place.

Listening in did nothing, Ghostface couldn’t even hear that signature breath to help him pin a location. The weight of himself eventually decided for him where to move first, as he shifted his right knee just a hair in an attempt to relieve the building burn from being on it so long.

Michael struck with the precision and speed of a peregrine falcon around Danny’s ankle, his grip harsh and hateful. He gave him no time to react before tearing him from the safety the bed provided, his robes bunching up and burning his skin against the poor hardwood finish.

With an undignified squeak of surprise and mild pain, Danny tried to figure out his best plan of escape. He wasn’t one to grovel for mercy, but maybe if he put up a good enough act it would buy him some time to escape Michael’s rage. An image of Daffy Duck on his knees in woeful tears came to mind.

That might have worked, had Danny not spent so much time thinking about it. Myers had him by the shoulder, deranged bloodlust forcing the smaller killer onto his back in one vicious swoop. Ah, there was that blade again, long, lethal and ready to be plunged into whatever part of Danny’s body it could hit.

“You wouldn’t hit a guy with uncontrollable homicidal tendencies would you?” he called out as Michael’s fist dug into the front of his robes and picked him up by them.

Danny dragged his feet best he could but Myers’ steely resolve overpowered the act and he slammed Ghostface’s back into the dresser. The knobs of the chipped wood dug harshly into his spine, an unwelcome but familiar massage.

“Deja vu, anyone?” he chuckled.

Michael breathed a cloud of malice out the bottom of his mask and raised his weapon aimed to impale through the other’s shoulder. No one amount of one-liners would help him out of this one he supposed. Danny braced for impact.

THUNK.

The knife buried itself a few inches deep into the wallpaper just next to his head. Michael exhaled low. And then, he pressed his body against Danny’s.

It wasn’t anywhere near the screaming, bloodcurdling karma he’d thought was coming for him and it took Danny a moment to accept the situation as reality. Michael placed his head on the other killer’s shoulder and tucked his hands up the back of his cloak, fingers skimming the base of his spine as he rutted his hips forward.

With any other partner, Danny would have made a nasty teasing remark about the sheer desperation of the act but something about Michael Myers doing it was more thrilling than all his trials combined. He reciprocated the embrace easily and shuddered at the shallow, needy thrusts.

His stomach twisted at the intimacy, Michael had never gotten this close to him of his own accord. Had he gotten this close to anyone before? He couldn’t imagine it.

“H-Hey Michael,” Danny loathed the way his voice was already cracking at the rough slide of Michael’s cock against his own through so many layers of fabric.

Myers inhaled shaky and strange, struggling to stop his grinding. He huffed, irritated in Danny’s ear but pulled back to look down and hear what he had to say. It made his heart do a little flip-flop at the consideration.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am LOVIN’ the enthusiasm here,” he encouraged. “But I really need you to take a step back, Mr. Bossy! Your dresser is a real pain in the vertebrae.” He furrowed his brows behind his mask and reached to rub at the sore spots purpling on his back.

Awkward and unsure of where to go now, Michael reluctantly released his grip on Danny and took a step back. He didn’t take any further action, just stood straight as a board and waited, his only movement the betraying twitch of his fingers desperate to get back on Danny. Most people would have found his jerky and peculiar reactions as a turn off but Ghostface found it endearing that the intimidating killer was acting kind of clueless.

Danny gave Michael a blatant once over, admiring his looming presence.

This exact scenario had played backwards and forwards in his head about a million times before. The combination of that and Michael’s obedience gave him the exact confidence boost he needed to continue to play out the fantasy.

“That’s better,” he made sure to add an extra breathy tone to his voice as he stretched the soreness in his spine away. Michael’s fingers twitched again at the exaggerated voice. “How about I help you get more comfy too?” Ghostface nudged his fingers against the other’s shoulder, encouraging him to keep stepping back.

Each step was clunky, heavy and evenly paced. It wasn’t exactly the sexy backward strut that Danny had been hoping for, but it would do. Once the backs of Michael’s knees hit the edge of the bed silently, Danny gave an extra little push. Somehow he failed to take the hint to sit down like some kind of evil Ken doll with no ball joints.

Ghostface figured it wasn’t a big deal and he brought his gloved hands to Michael’s chest. Showtime...again. He ran a finger down his sternum until he reached the second button of his jumpsuit and popped it open quickly. Myers had returned to his strange stiffness but Danny kept going, he was confident in Michael’s ability to push him away if he needed to now that he wasn’t shackled to the bed like a Stephen King novel gone wrong.

At each unbuttoning, Michael could feel his neck growing hotter.

Snap, snap.

While this wasn’t part of his usual imaginings of Danny, he felt he knew where this was going as the other comfortably slid down to kneel in front of him. It made electricity sparkle in his chest. He wished he’d hurry up already and quit making him wait.

Finally, when Danny had reached the last button on the suit, he abruptly stopped and looked up at Michael. The killer’s gaze was unreadable; he was a stone gargoyle that Danny was waiting to come to life. Between the two the tension thickened as neither moved.

Thankfully, Myers’ patience had finally run out and he moved to undo the rest of his suit himself.

He breathed a small sigh at the relief of being freed from his suit and Danny’s mouth went dry.

“Commando huh? You salty dog…” His usual teasing tone fell flat, like he was only putting in half the effort at making a snide remark. For so long it had been beyond easy to daydream about grabbing and handling and playing with the other killer till he was red in the face. Now, the expectation to perform well suffocated Danny. Stage fright was his least favorite type of fear.

It wasn’t exactly like he’d been getting much practice down here in this lawless limbo land. There was a distinct lack of corner stores or adult shops which made finding lube and condoms fairly unimaginable and besides, Danny really hadn’t wanted to perform a horizontal mambo with anyone but Michael anyways.

Was this a problem his devious coworkers were facing too? He couldn’t imagine everyone here was remaining celibate. Maybe the entity didn’t hand out protection like a college campus on Valentine’s day to prevent an onslaught of distractions?

As Ghostface sat still thinking about the mechanics of everyone’s sex lives, Michael tapped a finger on the forehead of his mask.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, snapping out of it. “Just. Formulating a plan to really blow you away!” Danny flipped his mask to the side, showing off a gap tooth grin. “Get it? Because, because I’m about to--”

Michael’s patience had worn thin and snapped clean in half and he shamelessly spread his own precum over his hand and stroked himself in earnest directly in front of Danny’s face. The boldness turned Danny’s stomach to water and he shut himself up instantly.

“O-okay, no more teasing!” He pushed Michael’s hand away and gripped around the base of his cock, the leather of his glove squeaking against skin.

Danny could do this, he was gonna be awesome, he was gonna take this silent killer to pieces. He opened his mouth and moved forward, swiping his tongue over the head.

Then he pulled back again with a nervous giggle.

“Sorry! Just thought of something really funny that happened earlier I--”

A steady palm gripped the top of his head through his hood. Michael breathed out in frustration and peered down at Danny with a tilt to the head.

That hand was steadying and determined to keep Danny from getting sidetracked anymore. He appreciated the help and finally shut up by opening his mouth, allowing Michael the pleasure of guiding himself in.

The sigh of pure relief from Michael sent a shockwave of encouragement down Danny’s spine and he moved his hands to open his jumpsuit a bit wider, admiring the clean almost markless skin there. He began to bob his head a bit more roughly, needing to hear the killer above him make more pleased noises.

With a particularly rough swallow, Danny pulled off of him to rub his tongue almost punishingly along the underside of the head. The new sensation combined with the vulgar wet noises as Danny pressed and slid against him pulled a particularly rough exhale from Michael, who shallowly rocked his hips forward seeking more heat. It was unfair how good it was, how Michael was both so in control and yet also entirely at Danny’s mercy.

Ghostface moaned at the light thrust, sending vibrations from the root of his cock to the tips of his flushed ears. It was starting to be too much and Michael frantically pushed Danny’s head down onto him to seek that same feeling again and again.

His easily wandering mind usually buzzing with a hive of thoughts had been focused down to just one, pleasing Michael Myers. He snaked a hand to the small of Michael’s back and the gentle hold was enough motivation for the other to really rock himself forward more vigorously than before.

Danny adjusted his jaw the best he could and barely paid attention to his mask falling the rest of the way off his face at the force of Michael sliding himself in and out of his mouth. Knowing he was doing such a good job for Michael made his own cock throb against the fabric of his slacks and he gave another muffled moan.

Michael picked up his pace again and felt the pressure low in his gut threatening to break open. He looked down to see Danny’s brow furrowed and concentrating deeply and the sight of his open face made Michael’s hips stutter suddenly. As he canted forward the abrupt angle change made Danny’s teeth graze just so over his shaft and the sensation overloaded Myers.

He tugged urgently at Danny’s hood to try to warn him of his impending finish but the other just took it as his way of asking for more. Ghostface took him all the way to the back of his throat and swallowed and oh, that was it for Michael. He let out a strange moan, scratchy with such an unused voice as his orgasm plowed him over.

At the sound of his choppy moaning, Danny pulled off to tease him about the unusual noise and ended up being completely caught off guard by Michael’s cum splashing a thick white line against the corner of his open mouth and over his cheek and chin. As the tremors of pleasure began to subside, Michael took a shaky breath and finally sat down.

Ghostface knelt there in shock at how little he’d had to work for that and touched a glove to his cheek to wipe away a string of cum there.

“With you maybe we should call it a blow-hobby because I’ve never had that much fun at work before,” Danny quipped, wiping his face off with the back of his robe sleeve.

Michael’s breathing had steadied and he took a moment to rebutton his jumpsuit just to his belly button before stripping off his sleeves and wrapping them around his waist. His arm muscles still jumped and quivered as he recovered but now they were on full display for Danny, pale and sculpted against the black cotton undershirt hugging his chest and torso.

He was facing Danny head on, predatory.

“Hey! Don’t give me that look! I figured this kind of...y’know makes us even?”

Michael rose to full height and looked down his nose at Ghostface, breaths growing heavy once more.

“If you’re still mad about earlier it wasn’t really my fault, Amanda’s the one who- WHOA!” Danny never finished blaming the Pig for the plan he’d fully concocted start to finish as Michael lunged and hoisted him over his shoulder. Before Danny could even think about how to respond, he was dropped onto the bed with a ferocity mostly reserved for survivors brave enough to taunt the Shape.

Danny swallowed, wide brown eyes looking up at Michael. From down here, the moonlight spilling in through the smudged window glass painted Michael’s form with hints of deep blues. He could clearly see where his wrists were splattered in mean violet bruises and peels of torn skin. It was a decadent look on the other killer and it made Danny squirm beneath him.

He wasn’t allowed long to admire as Michael gripped his boot and cranked his leg upward, the sharp stretch of it running a tremor of pain through his hamstring. Sick of listening to Danny’s vacuous babblings he wasted no time in yanking his robes up just under his armpits while stripping his joggers to his ankles. Ghostface had given Michael a bit of shit for a lack of underwear but there really wasn’t any reason to choose between boxers and briefs when your main daily goal involved constantly putting a group of rag-tag condemned souls in place. He felt his face grow unbearably hot at the exposure.

“Y-you know if you wanted this to last forever I’ll just give you a picture, I’ve got quite the surplus.”

Michael ignored Danny’s nervous banter and pressed both of his palms into the meat of his thighs. Danny didn’t think he’d ever get over the welcoming heat of his fingers, such a strange yet welcome juxtaposition to his chilling demeanor. They idled in place, massaging the muscle.

“My, what big hands you have!” He raised his voice to a fake feminine degree and answered the call in his head with ‘All the better to choke you with!’

Again he was ignored and Michael continued greedily eyeing him up, dragging his nails down his hips all the way to the inside of his knees. Danny whimpered, a bit of precome leaking from his cock at the feeling. This was going to ruin him.

If he was under the thumb of anyone but the killer he’d admired since his days murdering the upper middle class as “Jed Olsen” he might have been a bit more embarrassed by the displayed position he was in. His cock was beyond aching for attention and Michael was just...looking at him.

Danny supposed now he knew how Michael felt a bit earlier. Despite his crass and bold approach to openly stalking and maiming, the idea of copying Myers’ audacious move to start jerking himself off was a bit too brazen. He shifted his legs a bit instead.

Michael’s breaths had significantly deepend again, examining the other. Danny’s brain supplied an image of a frog pinned to a high school dissection tray.

“Hasn’t your mother ever told you it’s not polite to stare?” This was starting to get a little awkward. How much time did Michael need to get an eyeful anyways? It wasn’t like the room was that well lit, what could he even be looking at?

Danny parted his lips to comment about it but Michael abruptly made his move, pressing one palm down low on his belly and finally took him in his hand with the other.

It punched the thoughts from his brain. Michael was just a little rough in his handling but the treatment made Danny moan regardless, relishing in the generous strokes. He looked down for just a second, joining Michael in watching his hand pump up and down over him. The sight was a bit much and Danny chose to just tilt his head back and close his eyes. As good as it felt, there was starting to be just a little too much friction for his liking.

“A-aaah, Mike do you have um,” He huffed in a little breath. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use your mouth?”

Michael’s hand ceased its movement and he brought his gaze back to Danny’s face. Apparently blowing Ghostface was not on the menu this evening. A small bolt of fear skittered up his ribcage; maybe that had been the wrong thing to ask.

After a beat of silence Michael pounced towards the bedside table and opened the drawer, not caring that his chest was practically suffocating the other as he rummaged around a moment.

Smothered yet grateful, Danny could hear a bit of shuffling and plastic tapping out of his line of sight. As Michael lifted his weight from him, Danny took in a breath and looked up at the other killer, trying to decipher what he was thinking.

“Not that I don’t love being embraced by your impressive rack but, what are you doing?”

Michael replied by returning his hand to Danny’s cock with fluid tight strokes. The surprise of the added slickness to his palm made him hit his head against the mattress and an unencumbered moan escape his lungs.

Did the entity let Michael have lube? He struggled to comprehend how unfair that was. Was Danny just supposed to keep using an inadequate amount of spit every time he wanted to jerk off?

Pleasure rose like hot smoke to Danny’s head and clouded out his jealous thoughts. He could think about the unethical aspects of the situation later. For now he let himself get lost in the wet slide of his cock against the stronger killer’s hand.

Michael’s breath came out in labored puffs from the bottom of his mask as he continued to work Danny over, just watching his face contort and his cheeks warm with each twist of his wrist.

“F-fuck, I uh,” Danny felt himself getting close and he reached for Michael’s shoulders to grab onto. Michael gave him a particularly good squeeze and then pulled his hand away a second time, leaving Danny unsatisfied.

“Hey, what gives?” He immediately demanded.

Pretending not to listen, as always, Michael lifted his legs again to rip Danny’s joggers off without removing his boots. He gave him no time to argue before grabbing him by the waist and dragging him down the bed until their hips met.

Considering how repressed he’d been, only finding time for trials and preferred solitude, Michael was already hard again just from getting Danny worked up. He wasted no time in shifting himself forward, rocking his clothed cock against Danny’s ass.

It didn’t take a retired journalist with a knack for butchery to realize what he was asking for.

Michael’s breath hitched as he pushed against him.

‘Cute,’ Danny thought. He definitely had the upper hand to have a little more fun with him. Danny was nothing if not teasing.

“Do you wanna fuck me Michael?” he asked, willing himself not to stutter again. There was no teasing tone or accompanying joke and the seriousness caused Michael to nod enthusiastically without hesitation. The eagerness spurred Danny on.

“Good, I want you to fuck me too.”

Danny shifted up a bit to watch Michael move faster than he’d ever seen to untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and push it down his thighs.

He didn’t pass up the opportunity to admire him in nothing but his tight black undershirt which had bunched up kind of funny just over the dusting of hair on his lower tummy. So Michael Myers had brown hair huh? Danny had always pictured him as a blond…

Distracted by the new information, Danny let out a yelp of surprise at the feeling of Michael’s chilly slick finger breaching his asshole.

“H-holy shit! Give a guy a warning next time!” Michael froze in place at the exclamation and waited for instructions on what to do. Danny winced at how much wider his digits were than his own fingers and took a moment to get used to the feeling.

“Alright, I’m ok just--” Michael plunged his finger forward to the knuckle and Danny gasped sharply.

The stretch was just a bit much and Michael rocked it in and out of him with that same almost-too-harsh rhythm he’d handled him earlier with. Danny ran a hand through his hair and tugged his hood further over his head as the burn eased away until it was just pressure.

“I can take another,” he said.

He’d barely finished his sentence before Michael pressed a second finger into him. Danny absentmindedly wished he’d still had his mask to cover the furrow of his brow as Michael picked up his pace. For all Michael’s aggressiveness, it was clear that he didn’t practice this on himself, at least not very often. Ghostface forgave him as he curled his fingers forward and brushed his prostate.

“O-ok! You can, ah!” Danny’s eyes crossed as Michael inserted a third finger and hit the same spot dead on, making everything go shimmery. He continued his ruthless fingering and Danny began to worry for his own stamina; if Michael kept this up he wasn’t gonna last.

“I think that’s enough,” he breathed. Michael insisted on giving him just a few more full strokes before he stopped and pulled his fingers away. He wiped the excess lube quite romantically on the corner of Danny’s robes.

“Come on, this is a rental,” Danny’s chiding passed through Michael’s ears completely as he lathered a generous amount of lube over his own cock. Seeing Michael touch himself for the second time flipped his stomach completely over and kept him from delivering anymore not-so-comedic lines.

He held his breath as the head of Michael’s cock pressed against his asshole, the faint touch enough to boil his insides with anticipation. But once again the other killer was awaiting permission, one hand rubbing his thumb over Danny’s hip. As if he needed anymore assurance about this.

“For fuck’s sake, would you just--” It was like getting a baseball bat to the chest the way the air ripped out of him. Michael messily pushed into him with an urgency that put all his past lovers to shame, the intensity of it making Danny hit his head against the bed and moan loud and unhinged.

It made Danny feel so wanted that he didn’t tell him to wait this time and just relished in the feeling of being filled as he let the heat consume him. Michael slid himself all the way in, pushing himself flush against him, and he leaned down to press the surprisingly cool latex of his forehead into Danny’s shoulder. He drew in a deep inhale and shuddered at the wet, velvety warmth surrounding his cock.

Michael’s hands lifted him slightly and caressed at the small of his back, leaving Danny whining. He didn’t wait for Michael to move and attempted to rock down against him instead, deliriously needy to hit that spot inside of him. Michael responded with a slow and easy thrust causing Danny to grit his teeth and start to complain.

The snarky remark never came as Myers pushed in and out a bit harder this time. It didn’t take long for him to start building up a more intense rhythm, one that had Danny crying out. He worked his way back up to that just-this-side-of-not-too-brutal pace, forcing Danny’s hips down to meet every passionate roll of his body.

Michael raked his nails harshly across his sides before sliding both hands under Danny’s knees and pushing them forward to further bend him in two.

“O-ohhh…” Was the only thing Danny could manage as he felt the molten heat spread along his chest and arms. The switch in position allowed Michael to look down at Ghostface again and the extra attention on the uncontrollable gape of his mouth made Danny wish he was wearing his mask again.

Michael loved to see the emotions play out plainly across Danny’s face, the way it glistened with a bit of sweat, how his deep brown eyes had become eclipsed by the blacks of his pupils. He’d study the shapes and slopes of his nose and cheeks and brow for hours if he’d be able to keep his mouth shut for more than five seconds.

Despite the fact that Danny wasn’t being very quiet at all right now, Michael counted it as him shutting up and the pride blossomed in his chest and spurred him on to try a more passionate pose. He lifted himself off of Danny and smirked behind his mask at the undignified whine he gave. Who was being needy now?

His muscles strained a bit more than usual as he easily manhandled him to turn over onto his stomach. Those strong hands moving him so effortlessly made Danny whine as they slithered down his back muscles, drawing mindless patterns with his fingertips. He shakily lifted himself to his knees and pressed himself back, desperate to get Michael back inside him.

Sharing this desire, the other killer obliged and thrust in with one easy motion, burying himself to the hilt. Danny bunched his fists into the comforter and began to slam his hips back until he was fucking himself on Michael, the noise wet and obscene. Michael peered down to watch himself disappear into Danny again and again, grabbing one cheek to further spread his round ass apart. With another scratchy moan, he dug his nails into Danny’s sides and he met his thrusts eagerly.

Hearing Michael make noise ignited pride deep in his gut and Danny rocked himself back three times in quick succession to make him cry out again.

The motion rewarded Danny with a broken and strangled groan that he needed to hear again. Before he could repeat the action he felt Michael lay himself against his back and his broad arms wrapped around his chest, gently squeezing whatever his hands could reach.

He was hugging him.

For a moment Danny was speechless. The gesture was sickenly sweet and pretty unbecoming of two sadistic murderers to enjoy so thoroughly but Danny’s heart nonetheless squeezed and thrummed at the embrace.

This moment didn’t last long and Michael sat back up, bringing Danny upright with him. One broad forearm drifted up to his neck and the other down to his waist, holding him in place as Michael began to thrust up into him at this new angle. The sensation was overwhelming and Michael rested his forehead against Danny’s shoulder once again to steady himself.

A new flash of heat burned desperately over Danny’s entire body. The pose allowed Michael to slam his cock directly against his prostate on every thrust and the pressure against his throat gave him a lightheadedness that tinged his vision a dirty white.

He attempted to cry out to Michael, his gloves digging into his arm instinctively seeking release from the chokehold.

“F...fuck...Mi...chael,” was all he managed to squeak out, barely a whisper. Michael didn’t need to hear him anyways, he felt his vocal chords cinch and loosened his brutal grip just enough so he could hear Danny cry out uninhibited. The muted whimper of his name drove Michael to speed up, fast jackrabbiting thrusts that slapped his hips against Danny’s firm ass. His free hand drifted down to stroke Danny’s cock just once, matching the off beat of each driving push perfectly.

Danny was certain everyone from here to the MacMillian estate could hear him crying out for Michael despite the bicep crushing his windpipe as his orgasm finally overloaded his body. The sounds of his desperate pleas echoed in his ears as he came messily over Michael’s warm and attentive fingers which had not stopped rolling over him, working him passionately through as he came.

Michael tipped his head back in a final choppy moan at the feeling of Danny coming and clenching around him. With just a few more rough thrusts the heat became too much and he frantically pulled out to streak hot cum all along Danny’s back. Danny moaned soft yet brokenly at the feeling of being marked.

For a moment, the two breathed heavily together, trying to recover from the onslaught of sensation and pleasure they’d brought each other.

Then, Michael ruined it by dropping him carelessly, allowing Danny no time or energy to catch himself as he plummeted face first into the mattress. He didn’t mind too greatly, just coughed and rubbed at the soreness of his bruised throat as he caught his breath.

Once he’d mustered the strength, he turned over to see Michael back in his full jumpsuit, looking calm and robotic and like he hadn’t just fucked Ghostface until he could barely stand. He handed Danny his joggers, unassuming.

“You…” Danny paused at the absurdity before pulling them back on awkwardly over his boots, fabric snagging as he rolled them up his toned legs. “You’re paying for my dry cleaning.”

Michael tilted his head like he didn’t know Danny’s robes were completely soiled. He made calm movements to turn and cross the room, collecting his knife from the wallpaper with a quick flick of his wrist and something from his dresser out of Danny’s view.

“You know this one’s special.” Danny preached as Michael made his way back to the bed. “I can’t just get the entity to give me new clothes whenever I--” Michael’s knife interrupted him with the harsh tearing of black polyester. “Hey!” The flowy garment fell away from Danny’s still sweat-sticky skin, leaving his warm chest bare.

Before he had the chance to complain further, Michael pulled a thin t-shirt over Danny’s head and stooped down to pick up his discarded mask.

Used to clinging to every muscle and curve of Michael’s body, the shirt found itself loose and pliant around Danny’s trim form. Another unexpected gesture courtesy of the Shape. Bemused, Danny flashed his gap teeth.

“You know, I don’t care what anyone says. You’re kind of a softie.”

Michael swatted him in the shoulder with his own mask before handing it to him anyways. Danny was grateful for the concealment, it hid the stupid smile creeping over his face.

Despite being fully dressed, shoes and all, Michael laid down in his bed, stiff as a board and corpselike with his gaze trained square on Danny. Most people and killers would have found the image to be beyond unnerving, but knowing he was always in Michael’s sights was more of a comfort than a source of anxiety now. He didn’t wait for an invitation and saddled himself right up next to Myers’ side to wrap an arm over his broad chest and pressed the hard plastic of his mask into his shoulder.

Somehow the added presence didn’t bother Michael the way he’d thought it would. They stayed silent for some time, Danny awkwardly clinging to him like a little parasite. It was hard to cuddle up to a body that might as well be on a mortician’s table but Danny was doing his damned best.

Eventually his exhaustion took over and he ended up slipping into sleep quick and easy. Michael on the other hand was wide awake, listening to the other’s breathing steady out and quiet. As soon as he was sure he was asleep, he carefully moved to his side and pushed himself close until Danny was spooned up behind him, warm and far too gentle.

The subtext of the action batted around in his brain, threatening to keep him awake longer. Luckily he was a lot better at blocking out excess and intrusive thoughts than Danny was and he pushed these thoughts away.

If he really wanted to think about it, he could do it in the morning.


End file.
